


Reaping the Whirlwind

by HYPERFocused



Category: Northern Exposure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joel never expected this, but in Cicely, he's learned to expect the unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaping the Whirlwind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trascendenza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/gifts).



Joel's been in Alaska long enough to at least secretly call It home, when it hits him. He doesn't miss Elaine. Like her, he's moved on with his affections, and it's not with who he, or anyone, would expect. It isn't that there's a particularly meaningful occasion. It's just there one day, an epiphany of what's always been obvious, if only he'd bothered to notice.

Yes, he loved Elaine, probably always will, and he has warm memories of their good times together. He's also got – he'll admit – more than a little (slowly waning) anger for what she's done to him, but if push comes to shove, he doesn't want her back. Frankly, the idea of listening to her strident complaining tones, or even feeling her bony shins bumping against his legs makes him wrap up even tighter in the quilt that Marilyn loaned him when Elaine had visited and they'd all been sick. "Oh, that's _adorable_," Elaine had overenthused. "Is that a native craft?" when Marilyn dropped it off, along with the ointment that Joel was loathe to admit had made everyone feel better.

"Sears."

"Oh, well, it's lovely. Very warm." Elaine shrugged apologetically at him, her 'Oh no, have I offended the Natives'? look. It was the same one she got when they'd stayed at a Bed and Breakfast near Amish country, He imagined Marilyn would find it offensive, and he couldn't blame her.

"Marilyn knits." She's very good, the sweater she'd made for his birthday is gorgeous, and more comfortable than his grandmother had ever made.  
The quilt turns out to be a long loan: his relationship with Elaine long over, and he still hasn't seen fit to give the quilt back to Marilyn yet. That's the thing, she isn't anything like the kind of woman he ever thought he wanted, but he's been having thoughts all the same. He's had those thoughts a lot lately, imagining her, warm and solid. holding him. Surrounding him. A quiet presence, opening to him.

He's not sure where these thoughts come from. She's not his type. Not even the kind of woman he's supposed to like, but never to marry. "Tell me you'll bring home a nice Jewish girl, Joel. Give your mother some grandchildren to spoil." She's not a young shiksa beauty like Shelley, or a self-possessed knockout like O'Connnel. Joel's never gone for Zaftig before. Never fell for placid, for anyone who didn't try to match him word for word. She's different, and it occurs to Joel, maybe that's just what ne heeds

He asks Chris about it. Feels him out. Not in so many words, of course. Not "I think I've got inappropriate feelings for Marilyn, how do you feel about her?" But are they inappropriate? Stranger things have happened. In Cicely, stranger things have even happened to him. Marilyn has probably witnessed them all.  
What he says is, "Do you ever think about silence, Chris? How nice it is? I never used to, before. You don't get much silence in New York. Even the quiet is loud."  
Chris ponders this, in his inimitable way. "It's true, there's a lot of quiet in Alaska. Or at least the absence of manufactured sound is easy to come by here."  
"Well, that's what I meant. Lately I've come to crave it. Listening. Someone who doesn't need to fill every space with words. It wasn't something I ever knew I needed."

"Maybe you aren't the Joel Fleischman you always thought you were."

"Is that it, do you think? Self-discovery?"

"I've found introspection to be the best way to figure out who we're supposed to be, and sometimes even who we're meant to be with."

"And who do you think I'm meant to be with?"

"The phrase 'Reap the Whirlwind' comes to mind."

Joel thinks about that for a while. Maybe it's not such a far-fetched idea, after all.

At the office the next day, he finds himself acting strangely unsure. He doesn't know what to say to Marilyn. With Elaine, even with O'Connell he always knew where he stood. Knew how to be complimentary without being , well, creepy.  
"How's your mother? Her bursitis acting up?"

"Fine."

"Well, good. Tell her she should come in here if it does. Any one of you. Your family."

"We're having stew," Marilyn tells him the next afternoon.

"Sounds good." He's not completely certain if it's a pronouncement or an invitation, but he assumes the latter, and shows up at 6:30 with a bottle of wine. He isn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved that Ed is included in the invitation, too. He likes Ed, but worries that his presence might make the 'can there be more here' situation problematic.

Marilyn's dressed nicer than she usually does for work, her hair a dark wave down her back. It's a good look for her. Joel wants to run his hands through it, but doesn't dare. "That's a good look for you," he tells her.

Marilyn just smiles a little – Mona Lisa like – and goes back to tearing up salad.  
"You like her." Ed's figured him out. "Like Moonstruck."

Marilyn's mother nods knowingly."It's a good thing," she tells him. He's pretty sure she doesn't mean the wine.

"What's a good thing?" Joel doesn't admit to anything.

"Us." Marilyn says, as she places the salad on the table, and sits down next to him. He always thought she'd be shy, or reticent, but she isn't. She takes his hands in hers in front of everybody. They don't kiss yet, _he's_ not ready to do that in front of witnesses, but it's close.

"I'm trusting you to be good to her," That comes from her mother. He laughs, and assures her he will. It's all too familiar. Elaine's mother had said the same thing when she met him.

"Why don't you guys go enjoy the night air," Ed suggests after they've finished dinner.

"Yes, why don't we?" Joel excuses himself, takes Marilyn's warm hand again and leads her outside, where they sit in companionable silence. It isn't awkward, just ripe with possibilities. Ed's right, it's a gorgeous night. The moon is huge, shining down over them and turning Marilyn into something breathtaking.

When he kisses her, finally, it dawns on him. It isn't the moon that makes her beautiful.


End file.
